


To Own My Feet

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Disability, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2019-06-13 04:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: Odd, angsty little snippet from Blair's POV.  Came to me in the early hours of the morning!





	To Own My Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).

I’m still now, so I take a few moments to think about myself – particularly the state of my feet.  I look down and consider their appearance – not very big, as befits my general stature, but then, I’ve never had any pretensions about my height or lack of.Sometimes a dearth of inches can be a major pain.  How many times during my roving childhood and my many short-term stays at various schools and educational establishments have I been a potential victim of the bullying of budding varsity jocks, having to rely on my wit and fast-talking to get me out of sticky situations (mostly fairly successfully!)

On the other hand, how many times have I benefited from my small, ‘cute’ stature in the eyes of more than a few girlfriends….!?!

Back to my feet.  These same feet have taken me round the world.  They’ve taken me to places where, firstly in the company of Naomi, my itinerant hippy Mom, I learned to observe, enjoy and study many different cultures and societies, so that it was natural to me to embrace whole-heartedly the subject of anthropology. This same desire led me to a form of stillness for the first time in my life, after choosing to settle at Rainier University at the tender age of 16, whilst conversely providing the opportunity for yet more expeditions to observe indigenous populations and expand my understanding of social mores, but always from the outside looking in.

It was during one of these expeditions that I stumbled across my ancient copy of the manuscript ‘The Sentinels of Paraguay’ by Sir Richard Burton – (the explorer, not the actor – ha, ha!) and so besotted was I by the idea of finding such an amazing phenomenon in the modern world that my feet hurried me to even more destinations and studies in my quest for information. Thus I achieved my Master’s degree in the subject by the tender age of 21, which spurred me to even greater efforts in my fervent desire to produce a genuine individual possessing all 5 heightened senses to study and record for my much-vaunted, but rather dubiously received PhD topic.

Once I finally found the real deal, as opposed to the hundreds of individuals I recorded with one or two heightened senses, I naively assumed that life would become much less frenetic.  Not so!

Since the individual concerned turned out to be an irascible, short-tempered but fundamentally honest and decent cop by the name of Detective James Ellison, (whose first instinct was to throw me up against the wall of my office), I found myself even more frantic in my efforts to help said cop and balance a growing involvement in his life and work at Cascade PD with my workload at Rainier.

Getting to know my subject, and gradually growing to love Jim Ellison the man, I had no chance of ever slowing down, and frequently overheard myself referred to as the ‘Energiser Bunny’ or ‘Whirling Dervish’, by such as Jim himself, Captain Simon Banks, and detectives H and Rafe, not always in a complimentary fashion!

After the devastating ‘Diss disaster’ created by Naomi’s ill-advised attempt to help me in publishing my life’s work, my feet carried me away from Cascade and the impossibility of taking up the generous, but misguided offer of a Detectives shield.

Running from the deeply hurt but understanding resignation in my best friend’s face, all the time believing it was for the best, I fled from the University and the loft – my first real home – determined to set things right for Jim and his colleagues by removing my disruptive presence from Cascade. 

Trying unsuccessfully to patch up the gaping hole in my chest where my torn out heart used to be, my feet fled from place to place, always moving on before my despair (and reputation) could catch up with me.

From dead-end job to dead-end job I ran, constantly squelching down my loneliness and need to reconnect with the other half of my soul left behind in Cascade, until I finally pulled myself together enough to set things in motion to clear my name.

With the enthusiastic backing of a repentant Naomi, I found a solicitor willing to act for me to sue Rainier for wrongful dismissal, and Berkshire Publishing for Sid Graham’s illegal leaking of my intellectual property to the media.

With a decent out-of-court settlement under my belt, and finally free of student debt, I continued to wander, but always considered the victory as somewhat hollow in the face of who and what I had left behind.

Eventually, and perhaps inevitably, my feet led me back to Cascade and the loft, filled with a combination of nervous hope, love and a longing to reconnect with my beloved friend and Sentinel, whatever may be his reaction to my presence.

Half expecting a door slammed in my face at the least, and maybe even a sock to the jaw, I was reduced to a tearful, emotional mess to be greeted by a bear hug from Jim (who had heard me approach from the parking lot) accompanied by “it’s about time, Sandburg” from my ever non-verbose partner. 

Moving back into the loft with intense gratitude, and a huge and growing love for Jim, my feet kept me flying back and forth between the small Brandon College where I settled down to taking courses in Criminal Psychology and Forensic Anthropology to facilitate my accepting a post as civilian consultant with cascade PD so I could once again ride with Jim as partner. Life became as frantic and active as ever, and all was good. 

The accident, when it happened, was one of those freak incidents which you could never foresee or remotely contemplate.

Shortly after moving our relationship to another level, and finally consummating our love for, and commitment to, each other 10 years after our first meeting, we drove to a routine examination of a crime scene near the docks, coincidentally not far from my old and ill-fated warehouse home.Standing beside my lover while he went through his well-practiced and now comfortably familiar routine, I was, as always, admiring his skill and professional expertise, completely unaware of any potential danger to our persons.  Not so Jim, though, whose sensitive hearing picked up the minute creaking of old and stressed metalwork from the rusting gantry overhead, so that he was able to react quickly enough to clear the immediate area of crime scene personnel before the crashing, collapsing metal could kill or maim his colleagues.  Except, that is, for me. 

Jim has never truly forgiven himself for the stray girder which landed squarely across the small of my back as I dived for safety, although I have always, and with complete sincerity, continued to assure him that, without his early warning, I should undoubtedly have been killed outright, probably along with several others, and, gods forbid, perhaps even Jim himself.  I swear, that man does guilt like no other, but gods, I love him so much.

So, I’m sitting here in the loft in my wheelchair, waiting for my lover to come and collect me to go to the PD for a consultation.  Feet stilled at last, but, months down the line, I know my life to be as rich and active as ever, and very far from over. Jim still loves me, and, thanks to emotional and physical support from my therapists and Jack Kelso – a man long accustomed to life in a wheelchair – I have re-assessed my life and work, and my place in Jim’s life, and I find I can manage all with a contentment I could never have expected to achieve.  To a great extent, all this is due to the depth of Jim’s commitment to us, and our mutual love and respect.  So there, feet!

**_The End._ **


End file.
